


Anything But The Unexpected

by sardonicat



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Angst, Author Projecting onto Akechi Goro, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, One-Sided (from this perspective anyway), Pining, Regret, Self-Destructive Tendencies, not that I ever attempted to murder my rival/crush but the self destructive parts yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27600368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sardonicat/pseuds/sardonicat
Summary: But everything that had made Kurusu him was already gone. Everything from the playful smirk to those annoying fake glasses that framed his deep gray eyes had already been broken or beaten out of him until he was blank.And Goro knewhe did this.this one is a vent fic I wrote in two marathon sittings in a 24 hour period and did not get a beta or really edit myself so please be gentle
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	Anything But The Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> well, uh. I have this cool au multichap planned that I definitely want to get back to at some point that I had hoped is what I'd be bringing the next time I posted but. instead I ignored my responsibilities and used Akechi to vent about being a tad bit fucked up. I wrote this on my third consecutive day of avoiding my friends for no real reason so hopefully that raw self-hatred REALLY comes across here.

Goro seldom let himself be surprised by anything. He’d learned early on that so long as he always expected the worst, no matter what came, he’d be prepared for it. The vacant stare of his rival across the interrogation room table, apparently, was not one of those situations. 

He’d spent night after night since the onset of the plan tossing and turning, haunted by images which felt like prophecies - Kurusu alight with anger, screaming at Goro for all he was worth. Kurusu diving for the gun, struggling until Goro found himself at the other side of it, losing to him one last time before ever reaching the one thing he was sure he’d been put on this earth to do.

The worst, he’d thought, was Kurusu crying at the end of his pistol, begging for his life. As much as he wished he could be, Goro wasn’t _entirely_ heartless… even though he knew that wasn’t the issue. He admittedly wasn’t the _best_ with outward displays of emotions from others, but anyone else he was certain he could ignore in favor of getting the job done. Goro would never admit it out loud, but Kurusu was the one exception.

So he slipped into the bare concrete cell with that horrific image in mind, the one he still wasn’t sure he was prepared to handle, but stopped short when he finally turned his focus from the now dead guard to Kurusu. His eyes were devoid of the usual mischievous gleam he’d gotten to know so well, the one that heated him up inside and reminded him that on some level, he really was alive. The one he didn’t realize he’d been holding onto so tightly until it was gone.

It almost pissed Goro off. Here he was, fully revealed as the villain he was, a dead man on the floor, and all Kurusu could do was stare with that empty expression. Goro tugged on his gloves, half out of habit and half to cover the way his hands shook as he turned to fully face his rival. “Have you finally pieced it all together?” he asked, concealing his shock with a smug expression. He stared expectantly into Kurusu’s eyes but still found nothing.

Part of him wanted to break from the plan, throw the furniture, scream in Kurusu’s face, anything to get a _fucking_ reaction. Instead, he pointed the gun directly at his forehead. Still nothing.

Something that felt vaguely like anger welled up in his chest, but he swallowed it down as he always had. Anger wasn’t even the right word, and he knew it. What he really meant was _grief_. Every ounce of him fought not to acknowledge it but there was no denying the reality of the situation. 

Across from him was a shell of the boy who’d brought him his first real challenge since he was fifteen years old. The only one to match his skill and wit at every turn, and make him feel something besides a dull, bitter resentment. The first to make him consider that maybe, just maybe, if he made the right choices he could be worth something beyond what his shit father had set him up to be. His only friend.

But everything that had made Kurusu _him_ was already gone. Everything from the playful smirk to those annoying fake glasses that framed his deep gray eyes had already been broken or beaten out of him until he was blank.

And Goro knew _he did this._

Surely, this was worse than any emotional reaction. If he cried, at least, Goro could’ve seen that extraordinary will to fight in him one last time, and maybe there would’ve been a chance… He shook his head. He didn’t deserve that chance anyway, this was right where he belonged.

He swallowed one more time and cocked the gun, knowing Shido would be watching through the security cameras. If he showed one ounce of weakness it would come back on him tenfold, he couldn’t have that.

At this point it could almost be considered a mercy killing. If Kurusu was already broken beyond repair, he was simply finishing the job, putting him out of his misery.

Tucking away all else but the mask of unbreakable confidence he’d put on, he uttered the ridiculous line he’d been practicing in the mirror for weeks: “Case closed. This is how your _justice_ ends.”

Something inside of him cracked, and he pulled the trigger.

* * *

Goro grit his teeth against the scream of frustration building in his throat. Over the last three years he’d managed to take out every single person who had gotten in his way, so how was it that the one person who could tear it all down was also the one who slipped through his grasp?

His stomach twisted with nausea as he met those hypnotizing gray eyes once again, those same ones he’d accepted were snuffed out for good. The idiot didn’t even have his weapon drawn, he just stood slightly ahead of the rest of the thieves, regarding him with an expression that he, infuriatingly enough, couldn’t decipher.

What sickened him wasn’t the sight of a dead man walking, but the knowledge of what he now had to do. The decision had weighed on him enough the first time, and now he had to cement his choice one more time, with Joker at his full power and backed by everyone who stood with him.

 _No._ There wasn’t a choice to be made. He could take Joker down now and finish out his plan, or lose hold of everything he’d dared to want. Goro held Joker’s determined gaze and blocked out the quiet “ _not everything”_ in the back of his head.

Goro had hoped that the explanation of his true motivation would steer Joker away, let him know what a truly disturbed and unredeemable person he was, but that’s when he finally realized the meaning of that look on his face. _Pity._ If he had any doubts about what was necessary before, they were gone now.

If Joker wouldn’t believe him from words alone, he’d just have to show him. Goro called forth two shadows, summoning Loki to drain what little had been left of their human emotion, everything but the desire to kill. He sent the inky black creatures forward, and stood back to wait his turn to take down the Phantom Thieves’ leader.

As expected, the thieves made quick work of his shadows, even with the extra power he had granted them. When the second one evaporated into smoke, he took his opportunity to step in.

Of course Joker had hit him before, but his attacks were on a brand new level since they last dueled. Goro almost laughed, at least he wasn’t stupid enough to hold back now. Maybe seeing what Goro was truly capable of had finally convinced him that he wasn’t in need of his misplaced compassion.

He aimed a Megaton Raid at Joker, but was caught off guard when he managed to dodge, staring him down with that same sad look as before. 

The battle continued to sway in the thieves’ favor. No matter what Goro threw at them, they were able to hit back twice as hard, until finally he collapsed to the ground, exhausted and badly damaged. It was then that Goro finally looked up and acknowledged the others who surrounded Joker, and felt a swirling rage in his chest as he realized they all had that worthless sympathy written across their faces.

He had expected at least Oracle and Noir would be able to treat him as he deserved, he was directly responsible for the deaths of their parents after all, but even they looked at him like a crying child. This was all his fault, his mask was slipping.

Every one of them, even the goddamn cat was trying to reach out to him. How stupid could they possibly be? They acted like he’d ever had a choice in the matter, like even now there were other options of who he could become, but they were wrong. From the day he was born, hell, the day he was _conceived_ the only thing of worth for him to do was get back at Masayoshi Shido, and make him regret ever having created him.

And that was exactly what he intended to do.

Goro could sense Joker trying desperately to meet his eyes but he refused. He couldn’t stand to see that foolish desperation on his face any longer. The only thing Joker really wanted was someone he wasn’t, someone he could _never_ be. He had one ace left up his sleeve to prove it.

Calling Loki once more, he reached inside himself and did the one thing he’d been curious about from the very first time he’d used this power: he pulled his own weakness and desires from inside his heart, letting himself succumb to his own darkness.

Finally, the weak Goro wasn’t in control any longer. He could vaguely feel a poisoned laugh ripping through his throat as he let Loki take over, felt himself screaming at the thieves, but for the most part his mind was drifting far away. 

Goro only felt his body striking each of the thieves, again and again. Logically, he knew they were hitting back - why wouldn’t they be? But he couldn’t feel the sensation of any of it. Everything but his hatred was dead.

Then, all at once, he came back. Somehow he’d wound up lying on the floor, all of the Phantom Thieves standing over him. He managed to drag himself slowly up onto one knee before the sharp pain coursing through his whole body registered, and he sat frozen. As the raw fury melted away, the reality of what happened finally set in: Goro had lost. Even with all of his power, he wasn’t strong enough, and never had been.

He risked a glance at Joker, and immediately regretted it. It wasn’t just the pity - though that was still there - he looked… hurt. As if it were him sitting there defeated, instead of the other way around. In all the months they’d known each other, he’d never seen Kurusu so upset. For the second time he was faced with the cognizance that _he did this_. That realization hurt more than any of the cuts, bruises, and potential broken bones combined.

Even still, the thieves were reaching out to him, practically begging him to join their side. Goro had to let out a laugh, which broke into a rattling cough that brought the taste of blood to his lips. Had they learned nothing? The longer they tried to let Goro in, the worse he’d hurt them.

He was about to tell them as much, when Skull’s voice suddenly changed tone. “Akechi?”

It took him a moment to understand it wasn’t Goro he was speaking to, but something behind him. He followed Skull’s gaze to find what it was, and felt a wave of sheer terror wash over him. Of course… Shido’s last line of defense, should he ever choose to turn on him, was himself. Or at least Shido’s version of him.

The cognitive double glared down at him with a coldness he had only ever seen in his father’s eyes. Goro had always taken pride - or at least a small amount of comfort - in the fact that he had mostly inherited his mother’s softer features, none of the harsh angularity of Shido’s face. But seeing himself like that, he could find that chilling resemblance, however small. It made him sick to his stomach.

Trembling, he summoned every last ounce of his strength to push himself to his feet, staring down the barrel of a gun held in a replica of his own hands. 

More shadows materialized behind him, and he was offered an ultimatum: shoot the Phantom Thieves now, or be struck down by a mask of his own invention. At this rate, either one meant defeat.

If this maniacal puppet was all Shido thought of him, there was no way his plan ever could’ve worked to begin with. After all, it’s impossible to gain power over someone who didn’t bother to assign you any worth in the first place. Everything he’d spent his life working for, every step towards that naive fantasy had been for nothing. Especially…

He raised his arm and once again found Kurusu at the other end of his gun. This time, there was life there, hope left over to be extinguished. But Kurusu surprised him one last time - no matter how hard he looked, Goro couldn’t find a drop of fear in his eyes. It seemed he’d gotten to know him a bit too well.

If he couldn’t finish out his life’s work, he could at least make his life mean something in the fight to take that bastard down.

Time slowed down to almost a halt as he swung his arm towards the other Goro, pulling the trigger before that monster could register what had happened. His cognitive double cried out, staggering back as Goro turned his gaze back on the Phantom Thieves.

It would’ve taken only a handful of steps to cross the line and stand among his old teammates once again. In that split second he’d gained by turning the gun, he let himself imagine it, for just a moment: staggering across to join the people who claimed to so desperately want to save him. Maybe they’d welcome him with open arms for a few minutes, heal his wounds and invite them along on their own quest for revenge.

But what happened after they changed Shido’s heart? Goro wouldn’t have any purpose left. It’s not like the thieves would ever be his friends when this was all over. He’d betrayed them all, killing or otherwise compromising the safety of those they loved. And Kurusu… there was no way anything he potentially felt for Goro - imagined or otherwise - remained now.

No matter what they claimed when trying to talk him down from his metaphorical ledge, Goro would always be a villain to them. Eventually it would set in just how warped his heart truly was, and he’d be more alone than ever.

The Phantom Thieves would be just fine without him, and Goro didn’t need to stick around to see it. He swung his gun back to face Akira, offering him the tiniest of broken smiles as he shot over his head, activating the watertight door and sealing himself in with his fate.

* * *

Goro couldn’t be affronted by the unexpected if it didn’t exist. But that was the thing about the unexpected: there was no way to be rid of it completely.

He remembered nothing of the boiler room after the blaring alarms and flashing red lights, just the panic in Joker’s voice just after the door slid closed between them and Goro turned to face his death.

Or at least what should’ve been his death. Instead, he woke up on a sofa in an unfamiliar apartment. It was clear that _someone_ had been taking care of him, from the bandages on his ribs to the thick blanket covering him, but nothing in the room looked even the slightest bit familiar.

He knew it was a despicable, selfish thing to do to someone who had most likely saved his life, but in that moment his only thought was to get out of there. He left a sticky note with a simple “Thank you.” scrawled on it in his place, and took off.

Making his way out to the street, Goro’s heart pounded alarmingly fast at the thought of meeting whoever’s apartment he had just left. He didn’t like to owe people, and he certainly didn’t like to owe anyone for something he hadn’t even asked of them. He was fully prepared for the boiler room to be the end of his life, hadn’t bothered to spare a second thought for what might come after. There wasn’t supposed to be an after.

Now here he was, alone on a street he didn’t recognize, no goals, not a clue what he was supposed to do. Hell, he didn’t even know what day it was. Frantically, he patted around his pockets until he found his cellphone. Thankfully, whoever had helped him had not only left it with him, but kept it charged until he woke up.

There was an unsettling lack of notifications on the homescreen, even more so when he noticed the date. _December 24th._ It had somehow been over a week since he’d entered Shido’s palace and fought the Phantom Thieves. So many thoughts began to swirl around his head in a disorganized tangle as his breath picked up speed, escalating until he was fully hyperventilating. Goro had to crouch to the ground to avoid collapsing from dizziness, fully aware of how strange he must look. If anyone found the precious detective prince here - bruised, dishevelled, and having a full-on panic attack on some random Tokyo sidewalk… 

Well, that was assuming he still had a reputation left to ruin. He had no idea what had happened with Shido and the Phantom Thieves since their encounter. Had they changed his heart after all? Was Shido even alive? ...Was Kurusu?

With trembling hands he managed to type a string of letters just barely recognizable to his autocorrect as “Phantom Thieves” into a Google search, and hit enter. It took a while for his breathing to slow and his head to stop pounding enough to read the results, but when they did his confusion only grew.

The top result read “Phantom Thieves Hoax Explained”.

Surely, that couldn’t be right. He scrolled down further, finding that all the headlines read vaguely the same thing. Almost universally, the media was reporting that the Phantom Thieves had never existed at all, their efforts explained away as a series of coincidental psychological ailments.

He hesitated for a moment before starting a new search for “Shido Masayoshi”. These results made more sense, but only a little. All of them referenced his landslide victory in the election, and a vague collapsing incident during his acceptance speech.

Goro scrolled a bit more until he found a video link to the described incident. His stomach churned hearing that bastard’s voice, gratuitously thanking his supporters. This was directly followed by an abrupt chain in demeanor as Shido began to beg for forgiveness.

There was a fairly obvious cut in the footage, presumably where he talked about what exactly he was asking forgiveness for, but it was clear enough that it was a change of heart, reminiscent of all the previous work of the Phantom Thieves. 

He felt a sharp pang of guilt in his chest as the reality set in. He should’ve known something like this was going to happen. Shido’s influence was too wide for even the Phantom Thieves to handle. If he was smarter, there wouldn’t have been any doubt that a large scale cover-up was in order. _He should’ve warned them that it was useless._

Shaking his head, he typed in one more search. It was an awful idea, he knew he wouldn’t find anything to improve the situation, but he went through with it anyway.

“Akechi Goro”

As usual, plenty of photos of him - mostly headshots that were sent out to the news stations before his interviews - came up. However, the most recent article mentioning his name was from over two weeks ago. It was just some filler piece for a teen magazine about his love for sweets, no mention of the Phantom Thieves at all.

Goro didn’t really know what he had expected, but to be reduced from the genius detective prince to a shallow, fading teenage obsession cut him deeper than he’d be willing to admit. It almost made him doubt his own sanity, or at least the perception of his previous fame, but he knew for a fact that just last week he’d gone on air to discuss the “suicide” of the Phantom Thieves’ leader. Such wildly successful broadcasts didn’t just _disappear._

Right. Shido’s network. It was the only logical explanation, Goro had disappeared for more than a week, completely out of their grasp. One of their most lethal weapons had gone missing in action, with no indication of what he might do next, their only option would be to take away as much of his influence as they could until they could sort him out. But surely with such a passionate, newly invigorated fanbase, even Shido’s supporters couldn’t erase that overnight? No matter which way he spun it in his mind, it just didn’t make sense.

At this moment an old woman strolled by, casting a disdainful glance to where he still sat in the middle of the sidewalk. It reminded Goro all at once how ridiculous a position he was in. He abruptly stood up, brushing off the back of his pants, and picked a direction at random, opposite of where the woman was headed.

He still felt himself trembling down to his core, but if there was one thing Goro had learned over his years of blending into a criminal organization, it was that few questions got asked when he looked like he knew what he was doing. He summoned what little strength he had to put on a face of calm nonchalance, casually pulling out his phone to start planning his next steps.

Kurusu. He had to make sure Kurusu was okay. Just for his own peace of mind if nothing else.

Goro ducked into the first convenience store he could find, ditching his more recognizable detective outfit for the cheap street clothes from the store and tying his hair up into a short ponytail just for good measure. Maybe the public had forgotten about him, but that didn’t mean he could risk being tracked down by Shido’s goons before he could figure out what to do with himself.

This wasn’t the first time he’d considered himself lucky that the streets of Yongen-Jaya were so narrow and maze-like. There was always a nearby corner to duck around, a group of people to hover behind, any manner of ways to avoid being seen. He was relatively certain only a handful of passersby had even laid eyes on him by the time he found himself crouched around a corner from Leblanc, looking for any sign of life from the coffee shop.

Even from his vantage point, the comforting smell of freshly made coffee and curry wafted over towards him, making his mouth water and even more so tugging at something in his chest. A longing he couldn’t quite define.

Goro realized with a start that he hadn’t the vaguest idea of when he’d last eaten. That had to be all it was. Still, he had to admit that the thought of walking through that door, taking his usual spot at the counter and indulging in a hot cup of the Leblanc house blend was enticing in more than a material way. He’d always found the atmosphere of the place itself to be healing, even more so than the food.

He was shaken out of his thoughts when _finally_ the door swung open, and a familiar figure emerged, followed closely by six others.

Kurusu was visibly agitated. His hair was in disarray (beyond his usual bedhead look), and there were dark circles staining the skin beneath his eyes, but he was alive nonetheless. There was the faintest flutter of an idea in the back of his head, like maybe, just maybe if Goro stepped out now it would somehow help, but he crushed it just as quickly.

As much as he hated to admit it, Kurusu was smart, almost as smart as he was. He definitely knew that something odd was going on, the discomposure had nothing to do with Goro. Why the hell would it bother Kurusu to live under the impression that someone who had tried to kill him and his friends was dead? It was such a sickeningly ridiculous thought that Goro had to look away and shut his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them, the Phantom Thieves were gone, undoubtedly off to fix whatever mess they’d all landed in now. But Goro didn’t need to concern himself with that anymore, Akira was alive and that was the only thing left in all the world that mattered. 

* * *

Traveling through the Shibuya train station was definitely a risk, but it was Goro’s quickest route out of Tokyo, away from the city where he’d spent the absolute worst of his days. Of course there would be more watchful eyes with the potential to recognize him, but he also had the advantage of large crowds to blend into.

He was just about to swipe his ticket through to the transfer when he heard a deafening rumble from outside the station, and the ground beneath him began to tremble. He swiveled his head around frantically, hoping to catch some sign of what was happening from the other passengers in the station, but it was as if none of them had heard a thing. They all kept their heads down and continued about their days as normal.

Something definitely wasn’t right.

Though the rumbling had stopped by the time he reached the door to station square, a downpour had started - even though he knew that definitely hadn’t been thunder. Goro’s shoes squeaked loudly against the tile as he stopped just short of leaving the building. This wasn’t any normal rain, but thousands of translucent crimson drops falling from the sky. Was this… blood?

Cautiously he stuck his hand out to catch a few drops and inspect it more closely. Sure enough, when he brought it closer to his face, the suffocating metallic smell overwhelmed his nostrils. He let the droplets roll down his fingers, leaving a slick red trail down his palms. Goro couldn’t do much but stare at it in disbelief, watching as it pooled along the sidewalks and oblivious pedestrians splashed through it.

The blood was all but forgotten about when he finally looked up.

Horrific, otherworldly bone structures had risen from the ground, towering over even the tallest buildings of Central Street. Whatever creature they may have once belonged to, Goro shivered to imagine what it may have looked like with layers of meat and skin overtop of them.

Cautiously raising an arm to shield his eyes from the nauseating rain, he stepped out from the cover of the station, trying to get a better look at the structures. He found as he got closer that he could faintly make out the forms of shadows on more distant platforms, patrolling along edges for who knows what.

It finally hit Goro what exactly the structure reminded him of - it almost exactly resembled the walls of the lower levels of Mementos. It was as if Mementos itself had been dragged from the very depths of the metaverse up into the real world. In fact, Goro was certain that was exactly what had happened, but why?

Forgetting about his current plan, he wandered out into the streets, scanning every passerby for the tiniest sign that they were seeing this as well, but the only thing attracting strange looks was Goro. What the hell was wrong with them?

Moving further past empty face after empty face, a deep sense of dread had set into Goro. It made sense that if the metaverse truly had merged with reality, that he would be able to see it as a persona user, but it was hard to accept that those around him couldn’t perceive what was  _ right in front of their faces _ .

“-Thieves?” Goro faintly caught a voice saying in the distance.

“Right, the Phantom Thieves!” Another voice joined in soon after. Goro took off in the direction of the sound, not caring who saw him at this point.

He came to a stop behind a small crowd, gathered around a faint glow from a source he couldn’t yet make out. They were all talking over one another but one phrase kept popping out to him, “Phantom Thieves.”

A majority of the people walking by ignored the gathering, seemingly annoyed at having to walk around so many people stopped on the sidewalk. His theory was confirmed when Okumura’s gentle voice cut above the chatter, “Either way, they remember the Phantom Thieves!”

Goro finally managed to catch a glimpse through the cluster of heads in his way, a long black coat with flashy red gloves. Joker and his band of thieves were, as always, assembled here to save the day yet again.

A dull ache was growing in his chest as he strained to pick up the thieves’ voices yet again. “Mona, guide us. Where must we go?” He heard Fox address the cat.

Then Mona’s high-pitched tones responding, “Over there. The bastard from earlier should be in that temple!”

Bastard from earlier? Temple? None of it was making sense. The ache only grew as he watched the Phantom Thieves ascend up a nearby pathway of bone, headed off to face whatever threat it seemed they’d already been introduced to.

Goro’s heart rate began to pick up speed as he watched them disappear into the distance, and he doubled over as a sharp ringing filled his ears, pulling the attention of his senses away from everything but the sound.

Just when it seemed like he couldn’t take any more, everything went silent, as if the world had simply frozen around him, and he heard Robin Hood’s voice addressing him for the first time since he’d betrayed the Phantom Thieves.

“Goro, are you finally ready to redeem your sense of justice?” He asked, in a smooth echoing voice.

“Justice doesn’t exist,” he spat back, still struggling to catch his breath.

“You don’t really believe that, why lie to me?” Robin Hood was not dissuaded.

Tears pricked at the corners of Goro’s eyes, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the pounding in his head or the words themselves. “Of course I do. If justice were real, that bastard never would’ve been able to drive me as far as he did. There would’ve been  _ something _ to stop me from becoming that monster he wanted.” He had to pause for a moment as a sob tore through him, cutting off his words. “In a truly just world, I would’ve met Akira when I was young. I could’ve avoided all of this.”

He felt Robin Hood’s disappointment as his own. “But your justice doesn’t come from Akira. It can’t be built or changed by anyone but you.”

Goro squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He refused to indulge this any longer.

“Goro, open your eyes.”

He did as he was told, and found the form of Robin Hood standing in front of him, one white-gloved hand extended downwards.

“The Phantom Thieves need you, Goro. They’re fighting for humanity itself, they’re going to need all the help they can get. Don’t you think your talents could be of use? Get up there, show them what a real rebel looks like.”

Goro would be lying to say he didn’t almost take it. He could feel the very beginnings of a transformation forming, the weight of a mask settling on his face… but it wasn’t right. He shoved himself back to his feet and screamed, “I can’t!” so loudly that his throat burned with the effort.

He threw aside Robin Hood’s hand, and the half-formed mask and his persona’s image shattered all at once. He let his voice drop to an almost inaudible pitch, but continued even though there was no longer anyone there to listen. “I can’t do it, I’m not like them.”

It didn’t matter what he’d dreamed when he was just a kid, no matter how many times he proclaimed it as he ran around the house with that  _ stupid _ plastic gun. Goro wasn’t the hero, and he never would be.

The best thing he could do for the Phantom Thieves was leave them to do their jobs and gather the praise they’d deserved all along. The blood and the bones and everything else that had been dredged up from the Metaverse flickered for a moment, and Goro turned back to the station.

* * *

Nearly a year had passed since the day Goro had left the Phantom Thieves behind. He didn’t have a full understanding of what exactly they did, but whatever it was, they had saved humanity itself from certain destruction. As expected, they’d finished their battle just fine without him.

Another side effect of their victory, to the best of his understanding, was the metaverse had disappeared. At the very least, he didn’t have a way to access it anymore. The MetaNav app had removed itself from his phone, and even Loki had gone completely silent inside his head. It could get a bit lonely sometimes, but in the quiet moments it was nice, having only himself to press judgement on his thoughts.

For the most part, Goro stayed away from Tokyo. In his occasional trips back, he found that every familiar corner of the city had some Shido-related memory attached to it, and the unfamiliar parts weren’t worth the time. Still, there were certain things he just couldn’t let go of. Things like… 

Goro kept himself tucked around the corner as the bell on Leblanc’s door rang through the mostly-empty street. He was only taking out the trash, but this intoxicating mixture of both torment and relief washed over Goro when he caught sight of Akira.

He was just checking in on him - that’s what he rationalized it as, anyway - he’d worked for Shido for years, he knew there was no such thing as “finished” business in that chain of command, especially not for someone who’d upset their plans so entirely. Goro knew that wasn’t necessarily still the case, not when he had yet to confirm what the Phantom Thieves had even done last December, but it’s not like the worry was completely unfounded. He’d once caught two men in black suits tailing Akira down a busy street. Admittedly, they weren’t necessarily Shido’s (or whoever had replaced him following the change of heart) men, but that didn’t mean he’d trusted them either. A quick diversion was all it took for them to lose Akira in the crowd.

This time, however, things seemed quiet, and Akira looked well. He’d never been out of shape in the time they’d known each other, but his arms had gained noticeable definition since the last time he saw him - working out to impress a new girlfriend, maybe? Goro decided not to dwell on it.

In any case, he felt confident Akira was safe for the moment, so he allowed himself one last glance before disappearing around the corner.

As always, Goro hesitated for just a moment. Every time, right about here, he’d managed to kid himself - for however brief a time - into thinking that this time he might just turn back, finally reveal himself and take his shot at… That was the thing that ended the delusion. He could never figure out what he’d even want from a reunion at this point. Maybe some obvious pipe dreams, but nothing he could realistically expect of the boy he’d once tried to kill, the boy he’d abandoned more than once.

No, Goro was content to leave Akira be in his happy little life. As long as he was safe, Goro was happy too.

Maybe “happy” wasn’t the right word, but at least content. At the bare minimum he could  _ survive _ , knowing the worst of his many mistakes didn’t stick. 

He had it all figured out. He’d remain alone in his apartment outside the city, working enough odd jobs that he knew he wasn’t dependent on the money which still automatically transferred from Shido’s bank once a month. (Whether he somehow knew Goro was still out there or if his accountant was just too stupid to cancel them while the bastard rotted in jail, he never knew. It was another thing Goro didn’t let himself think too much about). He’d check in on Akira - as often as he could - and do what he could to ensure he’d never be hurt the way Goro had hurt him again.

As long as he never let himself fall victim to surprises, he could survive like this indefinitely.

A quiet voice rang out from behind him. “...Akechi?”

**Author's Note:**

> apologies if the lack of dialogue in the canon scenes was off-putting, I knew putting in too much of what was already shown in the game would probably be boring, so I wanted to focus on the new information of what exactly was happening in Goro's head. feedback on how or whether or not that worked would be appreciated!! (also I'm sorry I didn't really explain how he didn't die, I simply did not feel like it)
> 
> anyway I should maybe go get some rest, hopefully next time I come back it'll be something cool and creative and not... whatever this was. check me out on tumblr @kristen-applebees or twitter @sardonicatt (note the two t's!) for more breakdowns as well as various headcanons, memes, and ramblings from me! have fun, be safe! - mik
> 
> by the way i'm considering coming back and either editing/reworking this or maybe making a follow-up chapter/new ending when I feel better (potentially both) but only if y'all actually want that, so let me know


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